


Stained Hands, Pink Water

by Bisexual_Bean



Series: Stained Hands, Pink Water [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Tim being a salty bitch and Damian saying NO, Bruce Wayne Tries, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Please take care and love yourselves, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Whump, Tim Drake-centric, Whump, Why do I always hurt Tim?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Bean/pseuds/Bisexual_Bean
Summary: Tim is surprised when he wakes up.Not because of the ceiling, different from the eggshell white of his apartment.But because he woke up.That was not part of the plan.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Stained Hands, Pink Water [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896937
Comments: 24
Kudos: 441





	Stained Hands, Pink Water

**Author's Note:**

> *Trigger Warning!!!* If you have issues with descriptions of suicide PLEASE do not read. Really, I would rather you take care of yourself than read this, it's not worth it.

Tim is surprised when he wakes up.

Not because of the ceiling, different from the eggshell white of his apartment.

But because he _woke up._

That was not part of the plan.

A groan was passing his lips before he had a chance to stop it, and within the next half a second a Dick is standing over him, eyes wide and cautious and _pitying_

"Tim, hey buddy hey," A hand caresses his cheek. Tim wanted to vomit at the touch, "Bruce stepped out for just a second to talk to the nurse ok? He'll be right back ok?"

Tim didn't care were Bruce was. Didn't care who he's talking to or when he will be back.

Dick is still stroking his cheek with his thumb, eyes wet as they watch his every movement as though Tim is a main character in some live action drama. _Directly from the hospital bed himself- Tiiiimmmm Drake! the guy who cant even kill himself correctly!_

The thought gets a bitter huff out of him and its only when he starts coughing that he finally notices how dry his throat is.

Dick is quick to come to his aid, bringing a straw to his lips and only after watching Tim take a long enough sip does he pull away and return the glass to the end table next to him.

The older mans eyes still bore into him, even as Tim is avoiding his gaze. _Knows_ Dick wants to ask the normal, obvious questions. The _Why did you do it?_ or _Do_ _n't you know we all love you?_ or _W_ _hy did you let it get to this point?_

Why _did_ he let it get to this point?

So drained of energy he had to settle for a crummy death in a crummy apartment in an even crummier bath tub. If he had just done something sooner he could have gone out in style like jumping off a building without his grapple or thrown himself into the docks with a chain wrapped around himself so he couldn't escape in time before drowning.

But no. He had to go old fashion. With a tub full of ice water, and a knife from the kitchen.

Dick clearing his throat next to him snaps him out of his thoughts.

His eyes are still wet, baby blues reflecting the setting light coming in from the windows.

"Tim..." He reaches a hand out to grasp Tim's, careful of the bandages wrapped around his wrists, "Why..."

"Who found me," Tim interrupts, voice still slightly croaky despite the drink of water. Dick's hand tenses in his own.

At first it looked like Dick was going to withhold the information. Maybe wait until Bruce's return, or to gain an OK from whoever they've probably hired to 'help' him. Like anyone could fix what was wrong with him in a few simple words.

After a few moments though he finally speaks, "Damian." 

Tim barely holds back a growl. 

Of course the demon had to find him in one of his most vulnerable moments. Of course the brat had to save him just so he could hold this above Tim's head for the rest of his life (However long that may be). So he could forever be seen as the hero for saving poor pathetic little Timmy's life.

"Alfred sent him over to invite you for dinner. Bruce was still in a meeting and I wasn't in town yet. You weren't answering anyone's texts or calls."

_I was a little too busy trying to off myself sorry for not getting back to you._

Dick takes a stuttering breath, the hand from his cheek pulling away to run through his hair, "Tim...How...Why..."

"I don't need to answer to you," He was snarling, the words tasting like burnt popcorn on his tongue but he didn't care. The surprise and shock on Dick's face was enough.

"Wha…"

"In case you aren't caught up to the news, I'm emancipated. I'm not part of your little play family anymore. I haven't even worked under the Bats in months."

The look Dick was sending his way could have easily rivaled a kicked puppy's, "Of course you're part of the family Tim!" His grip on Tim's hand tightened to the point Tim knew he wouldn't be able to escape it without causing bodily harm to the man, "How could you think otherwise?"

Tim opened his mouth to reply before the door was opening and Bruce was stepping in, catching sight of the two of them before settling down in the free chair at his side.

"Good to see you are awake Tim."

_Good to see you're still emotionally constipated Bruce._

He could tell Bruce was deciding weather to grab Tim's remaining hand or not before Tim decided for him, tugging the injured limb closer to himself.

The two men shared a look over his legs, Dick biting his lip and eventually breaking eye contact to look down at his lap instead. At the action Bruce looked at a loss for words, eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead and Tim wonders if the man had a contingency plan set for this.

Probably not.

It was a few more minutes of Bruce struggling to find something to say, eyes flicking between Batman and Bruce so often Tim was surprised the man wasn't getting whiplash.

Eventually he decided on Batman. As always.

"Report."

Dick's eyes shot up to Bruce, furious, and Tim narrowed his gaze.

"No."

The single word cut off whatever reply Dick was going to snap back at Bruce, and had Bruce's eyes widening at the quick denial.

"What?"

"I don't answer to you. Haven't in quite a while if you've been paying attention."

Bruce and Batman argued again for a few more seconds before Bruce attempted to reclaim the situation

"You're my son Tim. Don't you know that?"

_You're_ _my solider Tim. Don't you know that?_

"I'll have you know that I dropped the Wayne name. I'm legally my own guardian. And I can demand you both to be removed from my room if I do so please.

"Tim-"

Tim jerked his hand away from Dick's now lax grip, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain tingling through his wrists, "I want nothing to do with you. I've _wanted_ nothing to do with you for months. Get out."

Dick swallowed next to him. "Please...Timmy..."

"Get out!" He screamed, teeth bared and hands squeezed into fists, "Damnit get out! Get out! Get out!"

Bruce was the first to leave, eyes still wide as they watched his son ( _Not his son, **never** his son_) scream out in pure anger. Dick took a few more moments, fighting between following Bruce and forcibly pulling his distressed brother ( _not brother, **never** brother) _into a hug. Thankfully, he went with the first option, saving Tim from having to fight against the older man while still sitting in a hospital bed.

He left without another word, door closing silently behind him.

Time passed pretty slowly after that.

He wasn't exactly allowed to leave, seeing as the hospital now had a firm reason to force him to stay. an 'on sight therapist' stopped in several times. But between Tim's refusal to speak a word and the deadly glares he would constantly send her, she was quick to leave every time.

Dick and Bruce didn't visit again.

Good.

Another two days of bland oatmeal and slimly Jell-O passed before Tim _did_ get a visitor. He was reading off a tablet, one of the few things they allowed him to have in his room unsupervised, when the door swung open.

Deep _deep_ down, in a place holding the light hearted dreams of a lonely 13 year old, there was a spark of something, asking for it to be Bruce or Dick, begging him to speak to them, to explain why he did what he did, and ask him to come _home._

Instead, he got a 4'9 brat that marched into the room, staring him down from the doorway like he owned the place.

Tim was the first to speak, hand clenching the bedding wrapped tuck around his lower half. His nurse was very insistent on him staying warm despite his constant protests, "What do you want demon."

Damian raised an eyebrow, scoffing, before stepping up to the bed and taking a seat at his side.

"Didn't you get the memo? I don't want anyone here."

"Tt, like I truly care about what you want Drake. Grayson and father were both displeased by your childish behavior during their last visit."

Tim huffed a laugh, "Childish? Look whos talking," Damian frowned, eyes narrowing, "Dick told me you found me. So go ahead, rub it in my face. You found the weakling Drake at rock bottom, I should forever bow and kiss your shoes because you decided to save my poor pitiful life."

It was when silence answered him that he finally looked at Damian.

The brat was staring firmly at his lap, one hand fisted and resting on his knee, the other drumming some rhythm or another onto his thigh. 

The scene caught Tim off guard. because Damian, assassin-child extraordinaire, fidgeting? That was just unheard of.

Damian took a steady breath before speaking, "I have seen many people die in my life time Drake. Many of whom were by my own hands. But..."

Tim frowned as Damian raised his eyes to look at him.

"Non... Non of them have ever appeared so...numb. At the prospect of dying," The demon bit his lip, "You were pale. Or at least paler than normal. And the water in the tub was pink. Your right wrist hung over the edge of the bathtub. And the blood had already stained the bath mat red by the time I had arrived."

The trembles started slow, growing more rapid the longer he spoke, eyes now shifting to the corner of the room.

"you were awake, when I called Grayson," A stammering breath, "You asked first who I was on the phone with, then why I was pressing towels to your wrist, then why I unplugged the tub and pulling you out of the water," A harsh swallow, "You asked me to stop."

Tim's frown only deepened, watching Damian's gaze grow distant, somewhere else.

"I've killed many people before Drake," Damian's eyes finally raised and met his own again, "But I've never had someone ask me to help them kill themselves."

The kids eyes shined with unshed tears, catching him off guard. Damian's hand hesitated before grabbing his own, and if Tim focused really hard he could even imagine crimson staining Damian's dark skin.

"Father and Grayson have never looked more heart broken. Which is why I ask you not to repeat your earlier actions," Tim's jaw clenched at the request (The demand) but he let him continue, "I do not wish to see my family in any more pain than we have already endured. Including you Timothy.

For a moment the air was knocked out of Tim's lungs. He had to take a moment to check and make sure he wasn't actually dead or talking to a hallucination. Did Damian really just call him by his first name _and_ admit they were family? That Bruce and Dick were his family?

The hand holding his squeezed once before pulling away. Tim almost admitted to himself that he missed the warmth.

Damian stood from his seat, hard set gaze firmly back in place.

"I will inquire to tell father that guests shall be welcomed back into your room, and that you are willing to see whatever specialist he has hired for you. No complaints will be taken."

Tim only watched as Damian walked to the door, hand gripping the frame as though ready to slam it behind him before young eyes once again met his.

"Do get some rest now Timothy," Was all that was said before Damian disappeared, footsteps growing fainter the further away from the room he got.

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't my normal thing. Normally, if I were to write one of these scenes, it would be all sad and heart warming and tears would be shed (Maybe I'll write something like that in the future), but not a lot of people really talk about this side of an attempted suicide. The victim isn't always happy to have been saved (At least at first), and that can take a tole on the family of said loved one. But at least in this story there is a very stern Damian who doesn't take no for an answer. Enjoy, tell me if I missed any obvious mistakes, and take care of yourselves!


End file.
